by AnonYMous
That evening Victoria and I discussed the future. I was still waiting for the official letter from Oscar and I was uneasy about the decision. Victoria was much more upbeat. “Look, Harry,” she said. “It’s only for a few years. You’re over sixty already. At most you only have four more years here, and do you really want to endure any more time with that loathsome lot? They really want you to come to Sweetpea. You’ll be popular, which would be a nice change for you. We don’t have to sell the house or anything. We can just lock it up for the duration and hire someone to look after it. You should look on it as an adventure. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”
“But what about our life here? And your family?”
“We can come back for vacations. And, really, Harry, they want you to do so little, you’ll be free to come back during term if we want to.”
“Are you sure Victoria? It would be a big change for you.”
“Well, I’ve been looking up the American antique fairs on the internet. They sound splendid. There’s a big one in New York at Christmas. Oh come on, Harry,” she said impatiently, “You’ll love it.”
The next day I received the letter from Sweetpea formally offering me the Chair. If I accepted the job we could move over the summer and my class would begin in August. Apparently, Thomas Jefferson Porpoise was anxious to organize a ball in our honour. He understood Victoria’s birthday was in July and that would be another thing to celebrate. The letter was sent by the President of the Board of Trustees.
I showed it to Victoria and she was astonished. “How did Thomas Jefferson find out about my birthday?” she asked. “That settles it! Of course we must go!” It seemed that the decision was made. I wrote back immediately, but I stressed that my acceptance must be confidential until I had given in my notice to St Sebastian’s.
The next week I had a short letter from the Vice-Chancellor. The disciplinary hearing was to take place the first week of June. The panel, he wrote, would consist of the Visitor, the Vice-Chancellor and the Dean. I had the right to bring a representative to the meeting. The Registrar would handle all correspondence and would be in the chair. Following the meeting, the panel would make a report to the university council, but I did have the right to appeal against its decision. After I read the letter, I emailed Morris O’Murphy. I asked if he would be able to come on the suggested date. He emailed me back to say he was free, but he insisted I come to see him as soon as possible to discuss strategy.
When I arrived at Morris’s office in Paddington, I was greeted by the same receptionist in African dress. She offered me a cup of coffee and handed me the latest UCU newsletter. Morris, she said, had been in since seven working on a complicated case. It was now nearly one o’clock. Looking bleary-eyed, he staggered into the waiting room. “Bloody mess,” he announced. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cotton blazer. “Want a doughnut?” he asked holding out a sugary bag.
I had offered to take him out to lunch. We set off for a nearby Italian restaurant. Morris was clearly well known – the waiter asked if he wanted his usual table. We both ordered spaghetti vongole and a green salad. Morris ate several bread sticks as he told me about the latest case. “Man’s a complete idiot. Exposed himself to one of his postgraduates. She’s on a Fulbright scholarship, and now the American Embassy is up in arms. He said it was a misunderstanding. To make it worse, she’s the daughter of a Baptist minister.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand academics.”
I smiled wanly. Our spaghetti arrived. The waiter sprinkled parmesan cheese on top. He gave twice as much to Morris as he did to me. “Now,” said Morris, “Your case. Look, Harry, you’ve got to learn how to send out emails.”
“I know,” I said.
“Damn big blunder.”
“You’re right,” I said humbly.
Morris caught the waiter’s attention. “Could we have some garlic bread?” he asked. “I imagine the Vice-Chancellor’s quite upset.”
“I think so. I haven’t seen him recently.”
“You did imply he was corrupt.”
“He is, but it was supposed to be confidential.”
“Nothing’s confidential, Harry. Particularly if you send an email to every member of the UCU.”
I sighed. “It was stupid.”
“Well, you’ll have to argue it was a mistake.”
“It was.”
“And you’ll have to retract your allegations.”
“But they’re true!”
“You’ll never be able to prove it. But, they won’t sue you. They won’t want even to try. The publicity would be too dreadful. So, they’ll give you a warning. It will be unpleasant. But, I’ll be there to defend you. We’ll have to plead incompetence.”
“Wanda will love it. So will the Registrar. And Barraclough will want vengeance.”
Morris finished his spaghetti and picked up the menu. “You don’t mind if I have a look at the desserts,” he said. “The chocolate profiteroles are particularly good here.” I made a mental note to send another large cheque to Christian Aid.
The next few days were devoted to examining, but I told Magnus that I had accepted the offer from Sweetpea and I swore him to secrecy. A week before the disciplinary meeting he came to my office. He was wearing a new blazer with an Oxford crest. “Where did you get that?” I asked.
“Ordered it from Harrods and asked them to sew on the badge.”
“But why?”
“Thought the ladies on the cruise would be impressed.”
“Magnus!”
“What do you think?”
“Victoria will think it’s ridiculous. You’re nearly sixty.”
Magnus stretched out on the sofa. I noticed he was wearing new brown brogues. “So, new shoes, too.”
“Got to get used to the part.”
“What part?”
“Snappy dresser! Flashy dancer! Anyway, we’ve got to talk about the disciplinary meeting.”
“Morris O’Murphy is coming. I’ve got to explain that the email was sent by mistake. And retract what I said.”
“That’s a pity. Still, can’t be helped. You’re bound to get a warning. Accept the punishment. Look chagrinned. And then, two days later, go and see Barraclough. Tell him you’re under stress. That if he makes you a decent offer, you’ll go.”
“It doesn’t seem very honest …” I began,
“Oh nonsense,” said Magnus. “The university owes it to you. You are giving the administration the chance to do the right thing.”
“You mean by being selfish, I’m really being altruistic!”
“That’s the spirit!” said Magnus.
“Anyway the Vice-Chancellor will be thrilled!”
“Absolutely … The greatest happiness of the greatest number, remember! But then you’ve got to say that you can’t leave without an enhancement to your pension. Make sure he agrees. And then ask for a year’s sabbatical. Remind him that that’s the deal I got, so it’s only fair. Point out that it would be far more expensive if they have to keep you on until you’re sixty-five. That means four more years on full salary. He’ll agree just like he did with me. Make sure he writes it all down. Get him to sign it. And then walk out the door.”
“Just like that?”
“Don’t mention Sweetpea. Tell him you need a formal letter. And once that arrives, that’s it. You can tell everyone about your new job. They’ll be furious. I can’t wait!” he chortled.
“That’s good, Magnus.”
“I know!” Magnus was pleased with himself. “I’m experienced in these matters!”
He stood up, did a few steps of the tango and with a flourish swept out the door.
Once examining was over, most of the department disappeared. Some went abroad on their holidays. Victoria and Magnus continued with their dancing lessons. Magnus, she said, was a quick learner and was doing rather well. I began packing up books and the other things we planned to take with us. Victoria informed her father about our plans. This was something we dreaded, bu
t he was surprisingly enthusiastic about it all. He told us that he had always wanted to go to Disneyland and would now have an excuse. To our astonishment, he booked a holiday in California in the New Year with stopovers in Washington and Las Vegas.
I wrote a lengthy letter for the disciplinary panel in which I explained that the email was intended to be private; only by accident was it sent out to all the union members. I stressed that it was written after a series of unpleasant and upsetting encounters and perhaps the balance of my mind was disturbed.
Morris O’Murphy arrived the night before the meeting, and stayed at the White Hart Hotel. In the morning, I picked him up. He was waiting in the lobby, wearing a turquoise sweater, a brown sports jacket, and an UCU lapel badge. He was eating a sandwich.
The meeting was to take place in the Registrar’s office. Together we waited in the lobby outside. At eleven, we were ushered inside. Sloth was wearing a grey suit and a St Sebastian’s tie; Wanda was garbed in a severe green flecked suit; the Vice-Chancellor wore his usual dark suit with a silk spotted red tie and the Provost looked suitably clerical. Morris and I sat down opposite.
Sloth assembled a stack of papers in front of him and began. “This,” he announced, “is a formal disciplinary meeting. We are here to consider the latest in a series of unfortunate events.” He then introduced Morris to the other members of the panel. Morris smiled. The Vice-Chancellor grimaced.
Sloth continued, “Now, Harry, I think you will understand that the Dean, the Provost, the Vice-Chancellor and I have been extremely upset by the email you sent out. I know that your Head of Department is equally disturbed. This was a most unfortunate incident, and we fail to understand how you could have acted in the way you did. We have read the explanation you sent us, but personally I find it impossible to understand how you could have failed to appreciate that in responding to Penelope’s email, your message could be read by the entire membership of the union. But, we will not quibble about this. We accept your apology. And I am glad to see that you have retracted what you said.”
Sloth took off his glasses and stared at me. “However, there are other matters the panel needs to consider. As you know, you have had two warnings about bullying and harassment this past year. There was also the encounter with one of the undergraduates. The panel is particularly concerned with the incident concerning my wife, and the subsequent conflict with the head of the IT Unit. In both cases, you acted less than professionally. What we are witnessing is a lack of judgement and a degree of arrogance which simply cannot be tolerated.”
Sloth paused and looked at Morris. “I am pleased that you could join us this morning; it is important that the union is satisfied that justice is not only done, but seen to be done.” Morris blinked and said nothing.
Sloth continued: “We have had a discussion already about the proper course of action to be followed, and there is unanimity in our decision. I regret to inform you, Harry, that the panel feels that your tenure here should be terminated. We do not believe you have acted in the best interests of the university. You have been guilty of gross misconduct. As you know, the regulations of the university specify that in such a case as yours, it is permissible for the panel to terminate a contract. This is the course of action we plan to follow, and we will be making a recommendation to the council to implement our decision …”
Morris interrupted. “I’m sorry Registrar,” he said, “The union will not tolerate this. I would advise you to be very careful what you say next. Harry and I will leave the room and give you a moment to consult with your colleagues, but I must warn you that your decision could have very serious consequences for the university.” He got up from his seat and left the room. I followed.
Outside he looked shaken. “This is more serious than I thought,” he said, “Attitudes have hardened, but don’t worry Harry, we’re not at the end yet.”
Within a couple of minutes, Wanda came out. She was flushed and clearly angry. Her spectacles swung on their chain against her jacket as she walked. “They want you to come back,” she said.
Morris immediately took charge of the meeting. Ignoring Sloth, he turned to Barraclough. “Now Vice-Chancellor,” he said, “You must know that I have consulted fully with my superiors on this. Everything I am going to say next is supported and endorsed by them. I must warn you that the union will not tolerate your proposed course of action.”
“Professor Gilbert,” he continued, “is one of the most distinguished scholars in his field. He has been awarded the Order of the British Empire for his contribution to Christian ethics.” Barraclough winced. Morris was not to be deterred. “He has served the university well during his time here. The union was most unhappy with the disciplinary actions that have already been taken against him. They were clear cases of victimization.” Sloth went a dull shade of red. “And,” continued Morris, “the fact that the university has been offered a significant endowment on the condition that Professor Gilbert leaves his job calls into serious question the motivation of the administration throughout this whole episode. This is just the kind of situation which will be of great interest to the Times Higher Educational Supplement.”
Wanda shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but Morris had not finished. “The email you refer to was sent out by mistake. Harry did not intend anyone other than Penelope Ransome to read it. As you will note, it was prefaced by Private and Confidential.” He stood up dramatically. “I must warn you, Vice-Chancellor, that if you follow this course of action, the UCU will have no option but to black-list the university and initiate formal strike action. Now if you will excuse us, I think there is nothing further to add.”
Morris beckoned to me to follow and with considerable dignity he walked out of the room. We left a profound silence behind us.
Morris hummed as we walked down the corridor. We sat down on the nearest window-sill. I was awed. “You were brilliant, Morris.”
“All in the day’s work. I think we gave them something to think about!”
Behind us, we heard the Registrar. He was out of breath when he caught up with us. “Now, look here,” he said, “there is no reason for you to walk out. The Vice-Chancellor would like you to return.”
Morris stared at Sloth. There was a long pause. “All right,” he said, and we headed back to his office.
Barraclough looked distraught when we entered. “Gentlemen,” he said, “There is no reason for such precipitate action.” He looked at Wanda who was staring out of the window. There were two red patches on her cheeks. Morris and I sat down. The Vice-Chancellor ruffled through his papers and took out the Staff Handbook. “You will see,” he said, “that the regulations provide for an appeal against the decision of this panel. If you are dissatisfied with the outcome, you have the right to protest.”
Morris turned his stare to the Vice-Chancellor. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said. “When I leave today, I will report to the General Secretary of the union about this meeting, and recommend the action I have already outlined. The union is determined to protect the jobs of its members. I will also advise Professor Gilbert to publicise the injustice of your decision through the press. As you are aware, he has considerable contacts. In addition, I am sure that the Archbishop of Cannonbury will take a dim view of what you propose. He is a personal friend and supporter of Professor Gilbert.”
There was silence. At the mention of the Archbishop, the Provost looked anguished. “I think we must have further discussion,” he said. “With your permission Vice-Chancellor, could I ask for a short adjournment?”
“Certainly,” Morris said obligingly. We stood up again and left.
Again we waited outside the office. This time Morris took a chocolate bar out of his pocket. “Must keep my strength up,” he said.
After about ten minutes the door opened and we returned inside. Wanda was clearly furious. Sloth looked even more gloomy than usual, and the Provost was obviously relieved. Barraclough cleared his throat. “We have now had an opportunity to
reflect on what you’ve said. In the light of the union’s objections, we are willing to defer making any final decision. But, I must emphasize that the panel will treat any future indiscretion with the greatest severity.”
Morris glared at the Vice-Chancellor. “And, the union will be equally vigilant about any future infractions. The possibility of black-listing remains on the cards. The union takes a very serious view of victimization. If there are any further unwarranted accusations against Professor Gilbert, the university will be facing industrial action.” The Vice-Chancellor opened his mouth, but Morris was like a bulldozer. He was not going to stop. “I will of course be reporting back to the General Secretary on the outcome of this hearing, and he may wish to correspond with you directly. We will be watching the activities of St Sebastian’s University very carefully in the future. In particular, we are profoundly unhappy about the offer of an endowment from Golds’ Corsetry. While Professor Gilbert is at the university, there can be no more negotiations with Mr Freddie Gold. I hope that is clearly understood. Now I think we have finished our business. Thank you for your time.”
Barraclough looked agonized as Morris and I left the room. As we walked down the hall, Morris smiled. “Rather got to him, don’t you think?”
“Morris, you’re a genius,” I said. “I haven’t even got another warning.”
“I should think not.” Morris sounded indignant. “You’re the victim remember.”
“Look, Morris,” I confided. “I didn’t want to tell you until this was over, but I’ve got a new job.”
Morris stopped in front of the chapel. “What?”
“Well, it’s really a secret. I’m not supposed to tell anyone yet.”
“What kind of new job?”
“Actually it’s a job in the States. At Sweetpea College in Virginia. I’ll tell you about it at lunch.”
Victoria picked us up outside the university gates and we drove into St Sebastian’s town centre. She was delighted with Morris’s account of events and giggled throughout. “Daddy would have loved it,” she said.